Not Quite Insomnia
by Emmy Covoice
Summary: In which Merlin has midnight-to-two insomnia, and he talks online to a stranger, or so he thinks. Merlin/Arthur. Merthur. Modern day AU.


**Author's Note: **This is my very first slash fic ever, so I hope I did an okay job! Thank you for reading, reviews are lovely, it is lovely to have you. Enjoy!

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Merlin pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sliding his long fingers beneath the lenses to rub his eyes, which only made the glasses slide back down his nose, making him have to push them up once again. It was a chase of contradicting movement, one thing destroying the purpose of the task just before it. It was an annoying habit that it seemed Merlin should had acquired at the age of seven, when he had first gotten his glasses, but had, in fact, gained when he became thirteen years of age, because that's when his insomnia had kicked in. Well, Merlin would never consider it 'insomnia,' exactly, because it wasn't that he couldn't sleep all night. Just between midnight and two in the morning. Every night, without fail, Merlin would rise when the green lights on his clock displayed 12:00, busy himself with an activity for two hours, at the end of which he would suddenly become extremely weary and go back to his bed to fall like a rock in water to sleep, until his alarm woke him up the next morning. Everyone had always assumed that Merlin went to bed early because he was 'a skinny nerd goodie guy' like that, when in reality it was because he had to go to bed two hours before all else just to get the same amount of sleep they did. Regardless of when Merlin had gained this habit with his glasses, he had stopped trying to fix it, since he had gotten himself contacts for the daylight hours, and only executed his loop of rebuttals when no one else was around to see it and tease him about it.

The square patch of light against the black darkness of his wall reflected from his glasses. The computer before him seemed to inhale life, taking three shakes of the mouse and a riff across the keys to fully awaken. Using the convenient university wifi, he opened his Internet browser and, from muscle memory, navigated to the website he had come to visit each of these sleepless hours during the night.

**_Hello!_** The screen greeted him. _**You are now talking to a random stranger! Say hi!**_

Merlin ignored the command, never being one to take orders, and waited for the other guy to start the conversation, his fingers racing around the rim of his cup, which contained water from his filter.

**Stranger**: Hey.

Merlin sighed. He really did wish someone would come up with a better greeting. He put his fingers to the keys anyways; one never knew what could come after a 'hey.' He typed, his message appearing as he pressed the enter key.

**You**: Hello.

**Stranger**: ASL?

So much for that hope.

"All stalkers' lust," Merlin muttered humorlessly to himself.

**You**: Twenty, boy, Earth. You?

**Stranger**: Twenty one, boy, and I'm not sure. Does Earth have purple grass and smell like Willy Wonka put his candy into a confetti canon and let a trigger happy Oompa Loompa get ahold of it?

Merlin found himself smiling. That was a new one.

**You**: You know, I'm really not quite sure about that one. It's probable you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up on the wrong end of the galaxy.

**Stranger**: I knew it. And what kind of a guy knows how to spell Albuquerque?

**You**: The kind of guy who reads the phone book because he has nothing else better to do at 12:08 in the morning.

**Stranger**: Hey, we're in the same time zone. And you've got to get yourself a girl, mate, if you think the best way to spend your time if you can't sleep on a Saturday night is literally reading the phone book.

No one had ever quite humored Merlin this much. He smiled slightly again, wondering what this guy looked like. He wished there were more guys at uni like him. His fingers' stopped tracing the rim of the cup so he could type with both hands. He decided to risk admitting his orientation to this guy, even if it may end the conversation. If the guy didn't like the way he was born, Merlin didn't want to talk to him in the first place.

**You**: Not my ball team. So what's your excuse?

**Stranger**: Not mine, either. Looks like we've got a lot in common. And I have no excuse, that's why I'm talking to you.

Merlin's small smile perked up a bit.

**You**: Well, I hope I don't fall too far from your ideal Saturday night.

**Stranger**: Ha. Yeah, well, I doubt my ideal Saturday night will happen any day soon.

Merlin's smile dissipated. He took a sip out of his cup, thinking of how to answer.

**You**: You've got a certain guy in mind, haven't you?

**Stranger**: Yeah...

**You**: Is he straight?

**Stranger**: As a board.

Merlin sighed slowly, trying to ignore the twist of his heart.

**You**: I know the feeling. I'm sorry.

It was a minute before the guy responded. Merlin wondered if he had just been thinking about the man he liked, or had gone to use the loo. If he had to guess, he thought the guy was trying to decide on a response he liked, judging by the way the screen kept flashing "stranger is typing" and then going dormant for a bit.

**Stranger**: It sucks, right?

"Well," Merlin said with a slight smile. "That was anticlimactic."

**You**: But we love them anyways.

**Strangers**: Yeah, which sucks even more.

Merlin's hand tapped the space bar a few times before he deleted the void of space he had created and typed again.

**You**: Wanna tell me about him?

**Stranger**: I don't want to sound like a girl.

**You**: You're never gonna see me, man. No judging from this end, say whatever you want.

The process of the guy typing and pausing repeated itself, during which Merlin repeated his annoying habit, making the oil on his hands transfer onto his lenses. He took his glasses off and cleaned them on the thin blanket that covered his legs. When he replaced them on his nose, the guy's response was complete, and Merlin leaned forwards in his chair to read it.

**Stranger**: I don't get why I like him. He insults me all the time, but I guess I deserve it, because I kinda started it. But he's... Well, the only word I can think to describe him is 'adorkable.' He's a total nerd, clumsy and awkward as a top-heavy penguin. All you'd need is to stick glasses on him and beat him up enough times for him to have to tape them together and he'd be the sterotypical nerd, maybe minus the high pants, because he somehow pulls off t-shirts that are too big for him and worn out jeans. He's so small, I swear he'd blow away in the wind. In winter he wears these shirts that go past his hands, which makes me want to tease him relentlessly and screw him until he can't see straight at the same time. But he's the only guy who's ever really stood up to me. That coming from a guy like him... made me notice him. We live on the same floor at uni, but I only really get to talk to him when the lot of us hang out. When I hear his views on the world and how quick he is to laugh, how carefree he is... He's such an idiot for not noticing how I look at him. But, I mean, who'd suspect a guy like me to be gay, right? But what about you? Who's your Mr. Wrong?

This time, Merlin took his glasses off before he dragged his arm across I his eyes, the sleeves that were too long for even his lanky arms taking away the graininess off of his eyes.

**You**: Well... He's kinda the opposite of your guy. He's cocky and arrogant, your typical sports captain who's good at everything he tries his hand at. I have entire new dictionary of words to describe him that I'm pretty sure I've made up a majority of which myself. All insults, mind. I hated the guy at first. He's just such a prat... But then I got to see some other sides of him. His dedication, the side of him that isn't too preoccupied to keep up his reputation with his friends that he can show he actually cares and has an honest heart. He's a painting that needs a lot of work, but I feel like he's got the foundations of something beautiful.

He blushed as he pressed send. He had never put it down into words like that. It made it seem so much more real, so much more desperate... so much more pathetic, really.

**Stranger**: That last bit, about the painting or whatever, kinda sounds like him.

Merlin's head cocked a little.

**You**: Huh. Fellow nerds think alike, I guess.

When the guy seemed to be pausing, Merlin sent another message.

**You**: So what's his physical characteristics? Like, is he attractive.

The guy paused again, but he responded.

**Stranger**: Like I said, he's small, but he's pretty tall. I wouldn't have to bend down to kiss him. Blue eyes that can rape your mind from across the room, hair so black it's almost blue, a boyish grin that always makes me need to pinch myself to keep from staring.

It was Merlin's turn to pause. The screen informed him that the guy was typing before another message appeared.

**Stranger**: What does yours look like?

Merlin was slow when he typed.

**You**: Dark blue eyes, blond hair that dusts his eyelashes, or forms a halo if he combs his hands through it. Very strong... sexy body. His teeth are flat in the front, but that just makes his smile that much more fascinating and hard not to be captivated by.

Stillness from both ends.

**Stranger**: How'd you guys meet?

Merlin swallowed.

**You**: Freshman orientation was the first time I saw him. Talked to him for the first time when we moved into our rooms.

**Stranger**: You sure it wasn't when he stopped his friends from teasing you, from telling you you should be the water boy?

**You**: That was the first time he looked at me.

Merlin blinked.

**You**: Wait, what?

**Stranger**: And when you first talked, he claimed he stopped his friends because he didn't want to clean up a nerd from the street.

Merlin's stomach dropped.

**You**: How do you know that?

**Stranger**: Do you go to Avalon University?

Merkin stared at his screen through his glasses, frankly, he was terrified. And freaked out. And just all-around creeped out. He typed with shaking hands.

**You**: Who are you?

**Stranger**: You are such an idiot. One moment.

Merlin froze, his eyes staring at his screen, the cursor fading in and out of existence in time with the thrum of his heart. When a knock came at his door, Merlin jerked so roughly that he tipped his chair and landed on the ground. Through the shock of a dull pain from his boney hip hitting the hard floor, Merlin remembered he hadn't locked his door, and that the person on the other side of it would probably open it at the sound of his crash.

His prediction came true, and light came in through the door from the hallway, creating a perfect spotlight on Merlin's chair-tangled limbs. His eyes adjusted to the light, and to his horror, he saw the all-too-familiar form of his Mr. Wrong.

"Are you okay?" Arthur Pendragon asked with a laugh shaking his words.

Looking up at Arthur's patronizingly smiling face, showing off his flat front teeth, Merlin put all the pieces together, creating an unbelievingly embarrassing and humiliating image.

Could Merlin just disappear through the floor? That'd be great. Thanks.

Arthur was in his bed clothes; a plain white form-fitting shirt with black sweatpants. His hair was disheveled, the light from the hallway catching on the lighter strands and making a true saint's halo about his head. He stepped forwards in his bare feet, lifting the chair off of Merlin and setting it upright, just in front of the computer, which still displayed Merlin's so-called 'anonymous' conversation. The smile on Arthur's mouth turned into an impossibly cocky grin, and he looked back down to Merlin, offering out a hand.

"Hey, stranger," he said, his confident eyes locking with Merlin's shell-shocked ones. "You look cute in glasses."

Merlin, horrified, did the most mature thing he could think of: throwing his blanket right over his face. A silence followed after Arthur was done chuckling at him, and Merlin dared to hope that he had left, but then he felt Arthur squeeze in on the floor between Merlin and the bed. Merlin peeked over the top of his blanket at Arthur, just the bottom of his glasses and above were visible.

"Okay, how about you stop being impossibly adorable for a few seconds and we can talk this out?"

Merlin disappeared back under the blankets, saying something that was too muffled for Arthur to hear.

"Sorry, I don't speak cocooned-Merlin."

The blanket flung across the room as Merlin cast it away, saying, "_You want to screw me until I can't see straight_?"_  
_

Arthur's warm chuckle made Merlin's ears burn red. "You know, Merlin, had I known it was you, I probably would have been a little more romantic at first..."

"You're a prattish, dollop-headed clot-pole, you know that?"

"Speaking of," Arthur said, "can I see that dictionary?"

"Yeah, sure, after I go lock myself in the closet for a couple thousand years."

"But then you'd be old, with a long white beard."

"Long white beard."

"Yeah. You have to grow into your name, you know. Though, I think you should probably grow into your ears first."

"Arthur, I swear to god—"

"And what was that thing? About me being an unfinished painting?"

Merlin was pretty sure he had hit his two o'clock wall. He rolled over, his back to Arthur. "Ask again later, when I don't want to skin your face off and use your eyes for marbles."

"Oh, come on, you know you love me."

"A cruel trick of nature."

"I love you, Merlin Emrys."

The tone of Arthur's voice had suddenly become low, dead even, dangerously serious. Chills broke up and down Merlin's spine, all of his hairs standing on end. A surface of pressure touched Merlin's shoulder, drifting down his arm and to his sleeve-covered hand. He realized it was Arthur's hand, and that that was Arthur's chest pressing into his back, and then Arthur's lips dusting over the top of his exposed shoulder.

"I love your humor, your wisdom, your mind, how you challenge me, how shy you are, your loyalty, your happiness, everything."

Through the wailing siren in Merlin's head that was screaming "_Arthur is touching you! He just said he loves you!_" Merlin realized that Arthur hadn't listed anything physical. Which meant more to Merlin than anything he could have said about his body. It was the souls that mattered.

"I'm not always a prat," Arthur said gently, his nose pressing at the base of Merlin's head, making hot breath swirl down his spine. "I can be... Whatever you need. Whatever you want."

Merlin realized their fingers had laced themselves together. Merlin pulled his hand out, only so he could roll back around to face Arthur. In the light the hallway provided, he could see the intensity in Arthur's eyes. Their faces were so close, and their bodies had no room between them. Every inch burned Merlin, burned him with fiery desire.

Their lips came together. Whether it was Arthur or Merlin who had closed the gap, it was impossible to tell, but it had been closed, and the feeling of Arthur's rough lips against his felt better than he had imagined.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked, pulling away gently just enough to be able to speak, his eyes searching Merlin's face.

"You," Merlin said without a moment's hesitation. "I only want _you_."

"I'm all yours," Arthur replied, pressing himself back against Merlin.

And so, after a one in a million chance, with a few written words, a speech, a kiss, a question, and an answer, Merlin and Arthur were no longer strangers.


End file.
